Catch Me When I Fall
A Falling Stars stand-alone romance from A.L. Jackson
Coming June 1st
Get Caught Up on the First Stand-Alone in the Falling Stars Series!
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A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.
Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, BLEEDING STARS, FIGHT FOR ME, CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART, and FALLING STARS novels. Watch out for her upcoming stand-alone, CATCH ME WHEN I FALL, releasing June 1st.
If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.
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Reader Group: http://smarturl.it/AmysAngelsRock
Home is a small town in the middle of England where she currently juggles being a full-time writer with being a mother/referee to two little people. In her spare time (and when she’s not camped out in front of the laptop) you’ll most likely find L A immersed in a book, escaping the chaos that is life.
Wicked fastball. Killer instinct. Cocky grin. Full package.
Unforgettable, an all-new not-to-be-missed second chance romance from USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow, is releasing May 4th and we have a flirty sneak peek!
Want another bite?” Then she started to laugh. “I know how much you like local cherries.” Tipping back my beer, I narrowed my eyes at her, then set the bottle down with a thunk. “What is that supposed to mean?” She shrugged. “You liked mine, didn’t you?” “What?” April laughed even harder and sucked on the spoon. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute.” I sat up straight and blinked at her. “Are you serious? You were a virgin that night?” Want more? Click here: http://bit.ly/32yl0nj
Back then, I had it all.
Wicked fastball. Killer instinct. Cocky grin. Full package.
(And believe me, I knew how to score.)
My senior year, I was a first round draft pick with a two-million-dollar signing bonus. Before I could even legally buy myself a beer, I made my Major League debut.
Point is, I was invincible.
Until one day I wasn’t.
After tanking my career—during the World Series, no less—the last thing I want to do is return to my hometown, where every jerk in a ball cap has an opinion about what went wrong with my arm. So when my sister drags me back to town for her wedding, I vow to get in and out of there as quickly as possible.
Then I run into April Sawyer.
In high school we were just friends, but I’d always wanted her, and I’d never forgotten her—the red hair, the incredible smile, the crazy, reckless thing we did in the back of my truck the night we said goodbye. It’s been eighteen years, but one look at her and I feel like my old self again. I can still make her laugh, she can still take me down a notch, and when the chemistry between us explodes, it’s even hotter this time around—and I don’t want it to end.
But just when I think I’m ready to let go of the past and get back in the game, life throws me a curveball I never saw coming.
Add UNFORGETTABLE to Goodreads: https://harlow.pub/Unforgettable-GRAbout Melanie USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like Schitt’s Creek, Homeland, and Fleabag. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak. Melanie is the author of the CLOVERLEIGH FARMS series, the ONE & ONLY series, AFTER WE FALL series, the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.
Connect with Melanie
I loved him before I knew what the word meant. But he was never mine to love.
Reckless Memories, an all-new emotional friends to lovers standalone from Catherine Cowles is releasing May 12th, and we have the first peek inside this not-to-be-missed romance.
“I would rather sit on a hill of fire ants in my underwear while eating ghost peppers.” I leaned against the counter and popped a cracker into my mouth. My nose wrinkled. It was one of those multigrain ones that tasted more like cardboard than actual food.
“Isabelle Marie Kipton, I have had just about enough of your snarkiness, young lady.”
But I wasn’t a young lady, at least not in my mother’s estimation. Young ladies were poised and put-together and never questioned the dictates their parents set for them. I questioned everything, never went along easily, and was far too disheveled to gain any sort of approval from my parents.
I stared unblinkingly at my mother, not giving an inch.
“You will sit at that dinner table, and you will be composed and polite to our company.”
I let out a snort. “Like their daughter is composed and polite to me?” Lacey was more like the Devil incarnate, but she wore her pretty, polite mask perfectly. So, my mother might as well have thought she was the Second Coming.
Violet looked up from where she was arranging a platter of hors d’oeuvres. “Lacey snaps back because you bait her. Maybe you two are just more similar than you’d like to admit, and you ruffle each other’s feathers.”
I glanced up at my older sister. The perfect image of the young lady my parents wished I would be, with her impeccably styled hair and future-doctor composure. She might as well have been a stranger. When had that happened? I searched my mind for the date the switch had been flipped, when Violet had gone from friend and confidante, the sister who’d always had my back, to someone I couldn’t even begin to understand most of the time.
“You can be friends with her all you want, Vi. I’ll take a pass on having vicious snakes in my circle.” I glanced at my mother. “Or sharing a dinner table with them.”
Red crept up my mother’s neck and seeped into her face. “What is wrong with you?” I stayed silent. The list of what my mother found wrong with me would take us all night to get through. “That’s it. Hand over your phone.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the counter. “Are you seriously taking my cell because I don’t want to have dinner with someone who’s awful to me? Who bullies my friends, and is cruel to everyone who isn’t in her little gang of followers? I’ve tried to tell you time and again that she’s not who you think she is.”
My mother held out her hand. “Perhaps if you kept better company, these things wouldn’t be an issue. You are who you spend time with, Isabelle. And those girls you run around with are not what I want for your future.”
My back teeth ground together as I slipped my hand into my back pocket, pulling out the device she’d requested and placing it in her palm. No phone meant no emergency line to my best friends, to Ford, to the people who kept me sane amidst the insanity that my mother brought about. I kept my face carefully blank. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that she’d impacted me in any way. She didn’t deserve to know she had that power.
“Since you insist on acting childish, you’ll be treated as one. Your curfew is now nine p.m.”
I gave her nothing. I was already a prisoner in this home full of people who’d rather judge me than try and understand where I was coming from.
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I loved him before I knew what the word meant. From skinned knees to first dates and everything in between. But he was never mine to love. I settled for friendship, even though I always wanted more.
That was before. Before he ripped my world apart and didn’t bother sticking around to help me pick up the pieces. I knit every last shred back together all on my own. And I’ve all but forgotten his name.
Now, he’s back, and everything is torn apart once more. But he’s not the only one doing the tearing this time. And there might be no stopping the person who has it out for us both.
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Writer of words. Drinker of Diet Cokes. Lover of all things cute and furry, especially her dog. Catherine has had her nose in a book since the time she could read and finally decided to write down some of her own stories. When she’s not writing she can be found exploring her home state of Oregon, listening to true crime podcasts, or searching for her next book boyfriend.
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MY FAVORITE SOUVENIR
Release date: 4/27/2020
A Contemporary Romance Novel
New York Times Bestselling Authors Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland
“Good afternoon. You’ve reached the Four Seasons Resort, Vail, Colorado. How
may I direct your call?”
I took a deep breath. “Hi. I checked out early this morning. My reservation was
for ten days, but I only wound up staying two nights. Is there any chance you might still
have my room available? Or any room, for that matter? My flight was canceled because
of the storm.”
“Let me take a look. What’s your last name?”
“Appleton.” I shook my head. “Actually, the reservation was under Ellis. My
fiancé’s last name.” Or ex-fiancé. But I’d let her call me Mrs. Ellis at this point if it
meant I could have a place to sleep tonight.
“Give me one moment and I’ll check.”
I sat down in the lobby of the Best Western, the third hotel I’d been to in the last
two hours. It was dumb of me to check out this morning. Though, at least I was
consistent. After making the bad decision to go on my previously planned honeymoon
alone, I’d brilliantly decided to check out only two days into the trip…without looking at
the weather report for Vail. When I arrived at the airport, I had no idea that a blizzard was
on the way. But the airline had assured me my flight was still scheduled as planned. And
they’d kept their word right up until five minutes before we were supposed to board,
when they announced a two-hour delay. Two hours turned into three, and three turned
into five, and when we hit six hours of sitting on uncomfortable plastic seats outside the
gate, they finally admitted it wasn’t going to happen. Every other flight had been
canceled by then. And now, every hotel seemed to be full.
“Hi, Mrs. Ellis?”
I cringed at being called that, but answered anyway. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry. After you checked out, your room was rebooked. We’re actually sold
out for the night because of the storm.”
I sighed. Of course you are. “Okay. Thank you.”
This was just my luck lately. I called four more hotels, until one said they might
have a few rooms available. Apparently they had guests that hadn’t checked in yet and
were in the process of making calls to confirm whether they would still be arriving today.
Rooms would be freed up on a first-come, first-served basis. So I decided to take a
chance and head on over. It was already seven o’clock at night, and there was no point in
sitting here anymore. Surprisingly, Uber was still running, even though the airport had
called it quits hours ago.
Out front, the snow was coming down hard. A giant SUV with snow chains on the
tires pulled up in front of the door. I couldn’t check the license plate or get a look at the
make and model of the vehicle since it was covered in snow, so I walked over to the car
and motioned for the driver to roll down the window.
“Are you Hazel?” the older woman behind the wheel asked.
I smiled. “Yes.”
“Heading over to the Snow Eagle Lodge?”
Even though the next hotel was only two miles away, it took fifteen minutes to get
there. By the time we pulled up, the conditions were almost white-out. It couldn’t be safe
driving in this anymore.
“God, it’s really terrible out here,” I said as I pulled up the hood of my jacket. “Be
careful driving tonight.”
“Oh, I will, honey. The next place I’m driving is home. I only picked you up
because you were on my way. Good thing you’re at your hotel now. No one is going to
be on the roads tonight anymore.”
Great. This place really better have a room for me.
As I climbed out of the SUV, a gust of snow smacked me in the face, despite the
fact that we were parked under the building’s overhang. The wind made it look like
someone had shaken a snow globe, hard. Inside the hotel, I wiped flakes from my
eyelashes and glanced around the lobby.
This didn’t look good. A line of at least thirty or forty people snaked five rows
deep, waiting to get to the reception desk. I sighed and wheeled my luggage to behind the
last person. More than half an hour later, I finally reached the front.
“Hi. I called earlier, and the person I spoke to said some rooms might become
available, that you were going to contact guests who hadn’t showed and see if they were
The woman nodded with a frown. “Yeah. I can put you on our waitlist. But we’re
still making calls, and to be honest, it’s not looking too good.”
My shoulders slumped. “Okay. Well, I guess please add me to your wait list.”
The woman lifted a clipboard and set it down on the counter. She thumbed
through a few pages and turned it to face me, pointing at the next available line, which
was two from the bottom of the page. “Just add your name and cell phone number.”
I scribbled both and let the pages above the one I’d been writing on fan back into
place. Noticing the sheet at the top looked just like the one I’d signed, five or six pages
down, I glanced through all the papers. There had to be at least a hundred names and
“Are these all on your waiting list?”
The hotel clerk nodded.
“How many people haven’t checked in?”
“I think about a dozen.”
Oh God. This really wasn’t good. But maybe people had just added their names
and left, like in a packed restaurant. Maybe the bulk of people ahead of me on the list had
found other hotels.
Turning around, whatever hope I’d talked myself into immediately deflated.
Every seat in the lobby area behind me was taken. Some were even sitting on the floor,
leaning against their luggage. With very few options, I wandered over and found an
empty space on a carpeted area of the floor, not too far from the concierge desk. Though I
knew it was futile, I took out my iPad and continued to search for a hotel with
availability. Even if I found one, getting there would be a miracle on its own at this point.
The nearby concierge desk had been empty while I scrolled and made calls, but
now two women walked over. One I recognized as the manager, since I’d spent a half
hour staring at the people behind the front desk while I’d waited in line. The other had on
a nametag and held a clipboard. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on their conversation from
where I sat.
“These seven we still haven’t reached,” the manager said. “All of the other rooms
have been checked in, or we’ve reallocated them to people from the waiting list.”
The employee flipped through the pages and looked around the full hotel lobby.
“Jeez. And this storm is supposed to stick around for days.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a guy standing on the other side of the
concierge desk. His back was to the ladies talking, but he craned his neck, and I thought
he, too, might be eavesdropping. Figuring he was probably just as bored as me, I went
back to my iPad search—until a few minutes later when I noticed him scribbling
something with a pen on the inside of his hand.
What the hell is he doing?
He wrote for a few seconds and then seemed to go back to eavesdropping. The
manager had walked away, leaving the employee to make her phone calls. She hung up
from one call and dialed again.
“Hi. This is Catherine from the Snow Eagle Lodge. I’m trying to reach Milo or
The minute she said the names, the eavesdropper scribbled on his hand again.
Catherine continued leaving her message. “I just wanted to confirm whether
you’d still be arriving this evening. Your reservation is guaranteed, so we’ll hold it as
long as you need. However, if the storm has perhaps caused a change in your travel plans,
we do have a long wait list of guests who could use the two rooms you have booked. My
number here is 970-555-4000, if you could please return my call at your earliest
convenience. Thank you.”
The same thing went on with the next two calls. Catherine left a message and the
eavesdropper scribbled. Curious about what he was up to, I kept my eye on him. After the
hotel clerk finished making her calls, she went back to the front desk. Eavesdropper
picked up his backpack and casually strolled down a nearby hallway. I leaned to watch
where he was going, and he eventually pulled up his hood and exited out a side door I
hadn’t even noticed was there.
I thought it was odd, but I figured the show was over.
But a few minutes later, a guy with the same ski jacket walked through the front
lobby door. He pulled his hood down, and I got a look at his face for the very first time.
Damn, he was handsome. Medium brown hair that was kind of shaggy and
needed a cut, full lips, hazel eyes, and tanned skin. His warm skin tone really stood out
against the pasty color of most people in Colorado this time of the year, including me. It
was a shame I loathed men right now, because he was seriously gorgeous. He dusted
some of the snow from the shoulders of his jacket and went to wait in line. It was much
shorter now, with only two men in front of him, mostly because people weren’t braving
the storm anymore. I had no idea what possessed me to do it, but I decided to get up and
wait behind the guy. Maybe I was imagining things to keep myself entertained, but I had
the distinct feeling he was up to something.
When it was his turn at the front desk, I moved as close as I could to listen
without seeming like a stalker.
“Hi. I’m checking in,” the man said.
“Great. What’s your last name, sir?”
He cleared his throat. “Hooker. Milo Hooker.”
I squinted. The guy was totally full of shit. I knew it!
The unsuspecting hotel clerk punched a bunch of keys on her keyboard and
smiled. “I have your reservation right here. Two rooms for two nights, breakfast
included. Is that right?”
“Uhhh…” The guy nodded. “Yeah. I booked two rooms. But it turns out I’m only
going to need the one.” He looked over his shoulder. “Looks like you won’t have a
problem filling the other one, though.”
She smiled. “No, we definitely won’t. I’ll just need a credit card and a picture ID
please, Mr. Hooker.”
I waited. This was the moment of truth. If he wasn’t actually Milo Hooker, he was
going to have to make up some excuse.
The guy reached into his front pocket like he was going to pull out his wallet. For
a second, I thought I might’ve been wrong, but then he pulled out a wad of cash.
“I lost my wallet on the slopes today. Luckily, I had some cash sent over through
Western Union before the storm got too bad. Can I just pay cash?”
The young woman hesitated. “You don’t have any ID at all? I’m not supposed to
check people in without photo identification.”
Fake Milo poured on the charm. He leaned forward and showed off a set of
cavernous dimples. “We could take a selfie together?”
The woman giggled. She actually giggled. “Let me just check with my manager.”
She disappeared into the back and returned with the manager a few minutes later.
A crazy idea popped into my head. She said there were two rooms… I made a
spur-of-the-moment decision and approached the counter.
“There you are, Milo.” I rested my hand on the guy’s shoulder. “My flight was
canceled. I hope they still have our rooms.”
Fake Milo turned and looked at me with his brows furrowed.
He was going to blow it if I didn’t do something, so I turned my attention to the
two hotel employees. “My brother and I booked rooms here for two nights, but I was
trying to get out before the storm. Obviously I had no luck. I spent the entire day in the
airport. Please tell me you still have my room? I’m dying for a hot bath.”
Milo looked at me, then the hotel employees, then back at me. I smiled and arched
a brow. For a second, I almost felt bad for the guy. He looked so bewildered. Since he
still seemed to be at a loss for words, I figured I should continue talking. “We went
skiing early this morning and had our backpacks stolen. Between that and the storm
coming, I figured it was a sign that I should get back home early. Apparently Mother
Nature had other plans. We should have two rooms—Milo and Madeline Hooker.
Someone actually just left me a message on my cell asking us to confirm. Her name was
Catherine, I believe.”
The desk clerk nodded. “That was me. The storm has a lot of people stranded here
unexpectedly without rooms, so we were checking in with guests that hadn’t arrived yet.”
The manager looked back and forth between Fake Milo and me. “We’ll have to
take a hundred-dollar deposit for incidentals on each room since you don’t have a credit
I smiled. “Of course.”
She nodded to her employee. “Check them in. It’s fine.”
The man next to me still had his mouth hanging open. So I dug into my purse,
being careful not to show my wallet, which was supposed to have been stolen, and
scooped out all of the cash.
“How much are the rooms?” I asked the clerk.
“Let’s see. With tax, they come to three-hundred-and-forty-two dollars each, for
the two nights, and then we have to collect the hundred-dollar deposit.”
<i?Shit. I didn’t think I had that much cash. I counted the money in my hand and slid
it over in front of Fake Milo. “Can you spot me forty dollars? You know I’m good for it,
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
After we paid and got the room keys, we walked side by side to the elevator bank
in silence. It wasn’t until we were alone and the elevator doors slid shut that Milo turned
to me. “What the hell just happened?”
I laughed. “We just got rooms, that’s what happened.”
He shook his head. “But who are you?”
“I noticed you standing near the concierge desk and eavesdropping while she
called the guests who hadn’t arrived yet.” I reached forward and took the man’s hand,
opening it to display blue ink. “You wrote down the names of the guests. I thought it was
odd, so I followed you to the front desk to see what you were up to. When you made up
that bogus story about losing your wallet so you could justify not having any ID, I knew
you were full of shit.” I shrugged. “When the woman said there were two rooms on the
reservation, I saw an opening and took it.”
“How did you know I’d go along with it?”
I smiled. “I didn’t. But that’s what made it so much fun!” I covered my chest with
my hand. “My heart feels like it’s trying to ricochet out of my ribcage at this moment. It’s
been a long time since I did anything risky like that.”
His eyes roamed my face. I got the feeling he still wasn’t sure what to make of
me, even though I’d just explained what I’d done. He looked down at my lips, which
were still curved in an excited smile.
“Why is that?”
My forehead wrinkled. “Why is what?”
“Why’s it been a long time since you’ve done anything risky? It looks to me like
you enjoyed it.”
I blinked a few times, not having expected a question that would tug at my
heartstrings, and my smile fell. “I don’t know. I guess I kind of turned into a different
person over the last few years.”
Fake Milo’s eyes locked with mine. We’d gone from pulling off a crazy stunt and
laughing, to an odd seriousness. His eyes flickered to my lips and back once again.
“That’s a shame. You have a great smile.”
Warmth spread through me, and I couldn’t seem to unlock my eyes from the
stranger’s—at least until the elevator dinged and the doors opened on the third floor.
“This is us,” he said. “Rooms 320 and 321.”
“Oh. Right. Okay.” I stepped out and followed the signs to our rooms. Since we
were, of course, family, they’d put us right next to each other. We stood a few feet apart
as we opened our respective doors. As my lock unlatched and I turned the handle to go
inside, something dawned on me.
“I almost forgot! I owe you forty dollars for the room.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, don’t be silly. I just didn’t have enough cash and didn’t want to hand the
woman a credit card when we weren’t supposed to have ID. I’ll just throw my bag in the
room and go downstairs to find an ATM. They must have one somewhere.”
“I thought you couldn’t wait to take a hot bath, or was that part of the act?”
I laughed. “No, it actually wasn’t. I wasn’t lying when I said I spent the entire day
at the airport. A hot bath sounds pretty amazing right about now. But I can grab your cash
first. It won’t take me long.”
Fake Milo scratched at the stubble on his chin. “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to
take a quick shower and then go downstairs to the bar for a drink. Take your bath. You
can find me there afterward to give me the money.”
We looked at each other for a moment.
“Alright, well, enjoy your soak, sis.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Milo. I’ll see you later.”
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My planned trip for two unexpectedly turned into a trip for one. Rather than let
my breakup get me down, I packed my bags and decided a week at a luxury
resort was just what I needed.
But one calamity after the next, and suddenly I was stuck without a hotel room,
along with a few hundred other people.
It looked like my fancy vacation was about to turn into me sleeping on the hotel
Until I overheard a gorgeous man pretending to be someone he wasn’t in order
to steal a reservation from a guest who hadn’t shown up yet.
When I realized there were two rooms, instead of calling him out, I pretended to
be his sister. That’s how the story of “Milo and Maddie Hooker” began.
We were the Hookers.
My depressing trip quickly made a U-turn into an adventure.
My fake brother spent the next few days showing me around his hometown.
When it was time to leave, neither of us really wanted to go yet.
So, instead of flying back to our respective homes, we ventured on a road trip.
At every stop, we’d pick up souvenirs.
But as hot as our chemistry was, we never crossed the line.
Milo knew I’d just come out of a tough relationship and didn’t want to mess with
a vulnerable woman.
So instead, at the end of our trip, we made a pact to meet again in three
It was always my intention to meet him.
But when I got back home, reality hit in a big way.
And I worried I may have lost my handsome stranger forever.
Was there a place for him in my future?
Or had the memory of him just become my favorite souvenir?
ABOUT THE AUTHORS:
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal
bestselling author of contemporary romance.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as
a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son,
and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and
the author of over twenty novels. Her books have been translated into over a
dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:
Facebook Private Fan Group:
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA
Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in
over a hundred Bestseller lists and are currently translated in twenty-five
languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children
where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:
Facebook Fan Group
OTHER BOOKS BY PENELOPE WARD AND VI KEELAND::
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The Day He Came Back:
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When August Ends:
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Derek is standing outside the truck, cupping my face in his hands. “I don’t want to see a single ounce of sadness on your face.” He looks down at the ground, his jaw clenched. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, baby. You are my reason for breathing, you were made for me. You are the other part of my soul, and without you I would not be complete.”
He kisses me so softly, so sweetly, that my toes curl and I close my eyes as he rests his forehead against mine. We just breathe each other, take in this moment.
“I love you so fucking much, angel, it hurts me. It hurts me to go an hour without seeing you.” He leans back, cupping my neck with his hand. “I am obsessed with you. You are my every thought.”
I can’t stop the tears no matter how hard I try, and he kisses my hand, right on my ring finger. “You are to be my wife, the mother of my kids, baby. You are the best thing on this fucking earth. Those people in there are nothing, baby.”
He smiles at me. “You are an angel on earth, baby, and I am the fucking devil.” He clenches his hand on my throat. “Together we fit perfectly.”
“You are mine forever, baby, forever and ever.”
I smile, putting my hand on top of his on my throat. “Yours always.”
Scoring Off the Ice, an all-new single dad sports romance, guaranteed to bring all-the-feels, by Stacey Lynn is releasing April 7th, and we have the first sneak peek!
My thighs burn from the quick movements. I probably shouldn’t have put in the extra time once I arrived back home, but I’m determined to be the best. Always. Despite the sacrifice. Still, I need ice, a heating pad, and a gallon of water to rehydrate.
I reach the front door, tighten my fist at my hip where my towel sits and fling the door open.
“What is wrong?”
The pretty girl I have seen ducking inside her apartment across the hall whips around. Her blonde hair comes first, tied back at her neck and her green eyes are huge.
She is so pretty. No. That word does not say enough. She is verkelig smuk. Very beautiful. Vidunderlig.
Immediately catching my gaze is a squished up, red face, with huge dark eyes and an odd-shaped nose. That is all I can see peeking out from beneath a blue and white striped hat.
I have never seen her with him before. She seems so young. Around my age, I thought. My mouth drops open and I point. “You have a baby?”
She is snuggling the baby close to her and at my words, she moves the baby away. Her expression changes into something I don’t like. Not even a little bit.
It feels like doom.
Like the look on my father’s face the day I didn’t make the junior league hockey team despite being the only kid my age invited to tryout—two years younger than anyone else.
That look should not be so familiar on a stranger.
Whatever it is. It is not good.
“No,” she says. It’s the first word she’s ever spoken to me other than hello, but it’s as pretty as the rest of her. “I think… well, I think he’s yours?”
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Sometimes scoring off the ice leads to the greatest rewards.
I’ve had only one goal in life since I first strapped on a pair of skates—make America’s pro hockey league.
I left Denmark. I made it to the top. Now, I’m determined to be the best. No distractions. I eat, sleep, and breathe hockey.
Until my birthday when my teammates convince me to live a little. But living a little takes on a whole new meaning when less than a year later I’m confronted with a crying baby on my doorstep, drooling on a note that declares he’s mine.
Suddenly, I’m a single dad in way over my head. There is no playbook for situations like this.
Luckily, I have Paisley. My gorgeous neighbor, my long-time crush, and now—my savior. She’s there any time I need her. Helping. Guiding. Gazing at me with those green eyes that make me feel capable of this after all.
With her at my side, I’m quickly learning there’s more to life than winning a hockey game.
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Meet Stacey Lynn:Stacey Lynn likes her coffee with a dash of sugar, her heroes with a side of bossy, and her wine a deep shade of red.
The author of over thirty romance novels, many of which have been best-selling titles on Amazon, AppleBooks, and Barnes & Noble, she loves being able to turn her vivid imagination into a career that brings entertainment and joy to her readers. Focused on sports romance and emotional, small-town romance, she also loves stretching herself in different genres.
Born in Texas and raised in the Midwest, she now makes her home in North Carolina and loves all things Southern. Together with her ultimate tall, dark, and handsome hero, she has four children. Her life is a chaotic mess that fights with her Type-A, list-making, neurotically organized preferences and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
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Easy to Fall, the epic conclusion to the heart-wrenching, edge-of-your-seat gripping Hard to Love series by USA Today bestselling author Willow Winters is releasing March 24th, and we have the first peek!
Sneak Peek:I love him with all my heart. Every piece of it beats for him. My hands tremble as I undress, taking more time than it should and I know that, but I can’t stop picturing him there, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his broad shoulders hunched over with a dejected look on his face. I’ll never unsee that look in his eyes, like he was questioning if he still had me, if I was still his, and desperately needed to know. Because he wants me still. He loves me still. And I’ve never needed to feel that more than I need it now. The door behind me creaks open just as I unhook my bra. It hits the floor just as I spin to face him and before I can move or speak, he’s almost on me, closing the distance between us in three broad steps. His strong arms wrap around me as he gathers me up, capturing my squeal of surprise with his lips in a kiss. I can’t hold him close enough as my arms wrap around his broad shoulders. They only stay there for a fraction of a second before I tear at his shirt, needing it off and desperately needing his skin against mine. I’ve never felt so close to him, yet so far apart at the same time. I need more of him and all of him. I want him to surround me and consume me until I am nothing but his. Protected and loved and cherished. My kisses devour his, but somehow he does just the same to me. Although it all feels reckless and desperate, he lowers me to the bed as if he has full control. Of course he does; he is so much stronger than I am. The thought reminds me to tear at his clothes, a button popping off as I do and neither of us care. In a single motion, Seth parts from my embrace, removing his shirt with one hand over his head and tossing it somewhere behind me.
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With her I was always on the highest high. That’s why it was so easy to fall.
I never stood a chance without her. The two of us were made for one another. It’s as simple as that. The world could try to rip us apart, but it would fail. Until this.
She told me once, love isn’t enough. I never would have believed it … until now. Neither of us could have prepared for this.
I won’t stop fighting. Not until the very end.
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Add HARD TO LOVE to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2VVTDCAMeet Willow Winters Willow Winters is so happy to be a USA Today, Wall Street Journal and #1 Contemporary Best Selling Author! Willow started writing after having her little girl, Evie, December 2015. All during her pregnancy with Evie she continued to read and she only wanted to read romance. She was reading a book a day — sometimes two. In January 2016 Willow was staying up late with Evie and just thinking of all these stories. They came to her constantly so she finally sat down and just started writing. She always wanted to do it so she figured, why not? Today Willow cannot be happier for making that decision!
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Things are about to get sticky…
Beefcakes, an all-new hilarious, second-chance standalone romance from Katana Collins, is coming March 24th and we have the FIRST sneak peek!
I might as well permanently add the label “Ex” to my name. I’m an Ex-Mr. Universe. Ex-Mr. Olympus. An Ex-Hollywood Stuntman. But no one from my small hometown cares anything about that. They only care that I’m the ex-boyfriend to the beloved Mayor’s daughter, Elaina Dyker.
And now, ten years later, I’m back, helping my siblings run my mother’s bakery while she takes on chemo. What should have been a routine cupcake delivery turns into utter chaos when the bachelorette party thinks I’m a stripper. And what’s worse? Elaina is the maid of honor.
But the meme about us sure went viral fast. My small hometown has become positively infested with tipsy bridesmaids looking for my erotic cupcakes.
Now Hollywood’s knocking again—and this time they want me and my ex, Mr. Beefcake and Ms. Prude, to star in a reality show.
It could solve all my problems—except her.
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ExcerptI arched my brow at her. “I bragged about knowing you so well…but man. I did not see this almond croissant massacre coming. What do you have against almonds? Or was it the amount of butter that offended you? Because as a fitness expert, let me tell you butter isn’t the enemy. Sugar is the enemy.” She laughed. “I, uh…I might have some anger management issues.” I took the bag from her and peeked in. There were knuckle marks against the outside of the croissant. Literal knuckle marks. I barked a laugh. “Elaina Dyker. Did you punch the croissant?” She laughed, pressing her lips together as though this would hide the fact that I saw her adorable little giggle. She brought her thumb and forefinger up beside her temple. “Maybe a little.”“Did you even try a bite?” She shook her head no. “I like my routine. I like my daily lunch of yogurt and almonds.” I made a face. Because she had to be exaggerating. Sure…she liked them. But having that same thing every day? Even chocolate cake every day would get tedious. “You can like yogurt and almonds but still indulge every now and then, you know.” I reached in and pinched off a piece of the smashed croissant, holding it out toward her lips. “C’mon. Live a little. I promise you, it is actually healthy, if that’s your concern.” Not that she needed to be concerned about that. “Almond flour. Gluten free. Grain free. Only two net carbs. The only sugar is the honey in the honey roasted almonds and the natural sugar in dates.” Her eyes grew wide at that and I knew I had hooked her. She reached out her hand to take the piece of croissant from me, but I pulled back. “Nuh-uh,” I teased. “We can’t have your fingers getting sticky. Might ruin that fancy suit you’re wearing.” She rolled her eyes, but parted her wet lips, her tongue peeking out just enough for me to place the croissant on top of. She moaned as soon as it hit her mouth, and her eyes fell closed as she slowly chewed and swallowed. “That’s…that’s healthy?” I nodded. “See? I’m not just a pile of muscles. I’ve got some talent, too.” Her head fell to the side. “I never said you weren’t talented. I just wish you wouldn’t show off quite so much of your other assets.” I grinned. “I thought you liked my assets?” “I do,” she answered absentmindedly, then immediately shook her head, realizing what she’d said. “I mean, I did.” About Katana As an author and a story-teller, it is the lifeblood to which my ideas take flight. And I believe in giving credit where credit is due. Occasionally someone (ie – my husband) will try to secretly switch out my beloved regular coffee for decaf. I always know the difference. ALWAYS (I’m looking at you, SEAN). I am incapable of achieving the perfect ponytail. I’m dyslexic. I can never wear white without spilling on myself. And I’ve never read Pride and Prejudice (gasp!). When I was younger and stole my mother’s Harlequins to read beneath the covers with a flashlight (seriously, did we ALL do this? I think we did.), I wanted to read about the tough as nails heroine. The perfectly imperfect girl with quirks and attitude and sass. And the anti-heroes who were anything but “Prince Charming.” Forget the knight on a white horse… give me the bad boy on a motorcycle. So, now, I write those romance novels I craved to see on the shelves all those years ago—the sassy heroines. The badass heroes. I spend my days in the throes of my imagination, and am loving every minute of it. I can travel anywhere and become anyone I want to be. One day, I’m a mechanic in Boston and the next, I’m a vampire stripping in Las Vegas. Since penning my first novel back in 2012, I’m now an international author with 15 published books, in a wide range of contemporary romance genres–(Paranormal, New Adult, Small town, Erotic Suspense… you name it!). After living for a decade in Brooklyn, NY, I took the plunge and moved to beautiful (although kinda chilly) Portland, Maine. I now live full time in ‘Vacationland’ with a kind of mean cat, a mellow chihuahua, and a very NOT mellow lab-pittie mix. Oh, yeah… there’s a husband who draws comics somewhere in that mix, too. I can usually be found in a coffee shop with my nose in my laptop wearing fabulous (albeit sometimes impractical) shoes. I love connecting with readers and fellow sassy storytellers, so feel free to drop me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org or connect with me on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter (@katanacollins). You can find a list of my available books over on my Bookshelf or if you’ve already read a book, it would make my day if you wrote a review! Threats, complaints, and criticisms should go to email@example.com.
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JUST ONE YEAR
Release date: 2/24/2020
From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new standalone novel.
Copyright © 2019
By Penelope Ward
I stormed up the stairs and headed straight to my old room—his room. But
when I got to the top of the stairwell, I swallowed the words I’d been prepared to
unleash. The unexpected sight of Caleb doing pull-ups met my eyes. He used a bar
affixed to the top of the door to lift himself up. He wore a T-shirt that rode up each
time he rose. His hard abs were now staring me in the face, ripples of carved muscle.
He had black wrist wraps on. He’d turned my old room into a home gym.
He was a bastard—but there was no denying he was beautiful.
I cleared my throat. “Did my father give you permission to put that thing in
The house shook as he landed on his feet. “Well, hello, Teagan. Amazing how
easy it is to walk up the stairs, isn’t it? He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat off
his forehead. “And yes, in fact, your father did give me permission to put the bar up.”
I came out with it. “You think you know it all, don’t you? Who are you?”
He glared at me. “Who am I? Well, nice of you to ask, Teagan.” He threw his
towel down on the desk. “You’ve had no interest in getting to know me from the
moment I walked in the door. But since you finally did inquire… Hi, I’m Caleb Yates.
Happy to be here. I have no clue what I’m doing with my life and have a somewhat
crappy family situation back in England. So, I came to a strange country for the first
time to get away for a bit. I miss my mum, but the good news is, I’ve just moved into a house where everyone is cordial—except for the cranky
girl in the basement.
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”
He came closer, and the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat
was…interesting. Couldn’t say it was a bad thing, that’s for sure.
“You didn’t have to write me a snooty email, Teagan. You can come talk to me
if I do something to piss you off. If you write me emails like that when I’m right
upstairs, that’s the kind of response you’re going to get, each and every time.”
He had a point. The email was a bit cowardly of me. Yet I’d still managed to
convince myself it was a good idea. He was right. Anything I needed to say to him, I
should be able to say to his face. Quite honestly, the benefit of that was also his
face—getting to look at it, I mean. It turned out, looking at him was a lot more fun
than avoiding eye contact had been. Thank goodness he can’t read my mind right
Seeing that he actually seemed angry as opposed to amused caused me to
change my tune—that and perhaps his scent going straight to my head as it followed
my mind right into the gutter.
He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
I looked down at my empty hands. “Give you what?”
“The stick in your arse. Take it out and give it to me.”
I crinkled my forehead. “What?”
He wiggled his fingers. “Come on. Hand it over.”
Genuinely curious as to where he was going with this, I motioned with my
hand, pretending to remove the imaginary stick from my derriere and throwing it
over to him.
He pretended to catch it, then let it weigh him down. “It’s bigger than I
thought.” Looking around he said, “I’m gonna find a space for it. Hang on.”
I laughed, against my better judgment. He shoved the imaginary stick under
his bed and wiped fake dust off his hands.
“Now that that’s out of the way, why don’t we start fresh?”
Model: Chase Mattson
Photographer: Derick Smith
Cover designer: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs
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The beginning of my sophomore year in college was off to a rough start.
On the first day of orientation, I had an altercation with an infuriating British dude in a campus bathroom.
(The ladies’ room was out of order. So, I used the men’s room. Don’t judge.)
I got home later that night and realized that the foreign student we were expecting to rent a room in my parents’ house was allergic to our cat.
So, the spare room went to someone else: Caleb—the British guy from the men’s room.
And so it began…my love-hate story with Caleb Yates. Or was it hate-love in that order?
The guy knew how to push every one of my buttons.
Sometimes I’d email him to express my aggravation and disdain.
He’d actually rewrite my own words and send them back to me.
That was the type of infuriating person Caleb was.
Sometimes incredibly funny and endearingly sweet.
He eventually grew on me, and Caleb soon became one of my best friends that year.
Too bad he was headed back to England soon, so nothing could happen between us—for so many reasons.
I definitely couldn’t fall in love with him, especially since all we had was just one year.
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over twenty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
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The Day He Came Back:
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When August Ends:
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BOOKS BY PENELOPE WARD AND VI KEELAND:
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Park Avenue Player: